Free The Ivy Lessons by J Lerman Page A

mine ,’ I insist. ‘I was hoping you’d be able to teach me -’
    ‘Nonsense!’ says Denise. ‘Everybody can sing. Just give me a few short notes. La la la la la la laaa.’
    I know I’ve gone bright red, but Tanya and Tom are looking at me encouragingly.
    I clear my throat. ‘La la la la la la laaaa,’ I croak. I know I sound terrible. Out of tune. Weak.
    Cecile and Ryan snigger to each other.
    ‘What a lovely soul you have,’ s ays Denise, smiling .
    ‘But I sounded awful.’
    ‘You sounded beautiful. We just have to work on the technical parts – volume, pitch, and most of all, confidence, if you can call that technical. You need to feel more comfortable , exercise your vocal chords and you’ll be there.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Really.’
    I love the rest of the singing class. Denise shows us old movie footage of her favourite singers, and we sing along to the Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. She gives us vocal exercises to practise on our own.
    ‘You can practise in your rooms,’ she says. ‘In the shower. Anywhere private really, to build up your confidence.’
    I realise, as we leave the classroom, that it’s not long until Marc’s lecture. My body goes tense at the thought. Grade time.
     

Chapter 22
    I’m early, of course. Crazy early. The door to the lecture theatre is open, so I go in. I know I should sit at the back. I should sit as far away from Marc as possible, b ut I find myself sliding into the front row, in the same seat I took last class.
    I flick through books, and doodle on my notepad, and a few more students arrive. After drawing little flowers over my reading list, I look up.
    There, three feet away from me, is Marc . He has a laptop case under his arm, and strides to the podium. I watch him take out papers and sort through them.
    Over the next few minutes, more students filter in. Tanya and Tom sit next to me – on time today – and Cecile sits a few seats down, as close to Marc ’s podium as possible.
    As my watch flicks to 3pm , Marc snaps his laptop case closed.
    ‘Good morning class,’ he s ays. ‘Some interesting performances yesterday and this morning .’ He doesn’t look at me. ‘I’m feeling comfortable that I picked the right people for this course.’
    The right people ... I feel my who le body sag in relief. Oh thank goodness . I didn’t mess it up too badly . It’s okay. It’s okay.
    ‘However, you all have things you need to work on. I want to bring out your hidden talents. The things you’ve kept secret, even from yourselves. You need to work on your discipline , too . As actors, we control our emo tions. Hence my insistence that you follow my rules and arrive on time. If you can’t be disciplined, you have no future as an actor.’
    He strolls back to his podium. ‘If I teach you anything, it’s that discipline and craft go together. Without discipline, learning the part, researching the role, getting into a character’s mindset, we have nothing. But if there is only discipline alone – if we don’t let go, and let our own instincts and feelings work with the character, we have nothing either.’
    At the end of the class, Marc announces we’ll be performing again in a few week s ’ time.
    Just when I thought we’d got past the stress of the first performance, already we have another one to think about.
    A ll the other pupils filter out , but I stay behind. I can see some of the pupils giving me odd looks and nudging each other.
    I wait until the last pupil leaves the room, and then I walk around to where Marc is p utting papers in his laptop case.
    He doesn’t look up, but he glances sideways at me. ‘ Can I help you, Miss Rose ? ’
    ‘I hope so,’ I say, as confidently as I can manage.
    ‘How so?’
    ‘I ... I think I need some extra help. I feel so nervous at the thought of performing again. I don’t think ... I mean, I know you think I can do this. But I just feel ... without help, my next performance will be the same as the first